Chicago! Want a FREE copy of my memoir?

From the University of Chicago Barnes & Noble, comes this cool offer:

We’re planning a special event to slow down the pace and give you a little inspiration before finals! The University of Chicago Barnes & Noble is opening its doors for a fun evening of discussion, laughter and FREE books -- but we need your help!

Here's how it works: If Kambri gets 50 RSVPs, she will join us in Chicago, and each of you lucky supporters will get a FREE hardcover copy of her book at the event. She’ll personally autograph it, too. Cool! 

But you must RSVP here http://www.togather.com/event/458/kambri-in-chicago.html to make it happen.

Kambri Crews, comedic storyteller and author of the highly acclaimed new memoir Burn Down the Ground (Random House) is one of our top picks. We'll chat with Kambri about what it was like to grow up with two deaf parents, and how her upbringing in rural Texas shaped who she is today. To vote for Kambri, RSVP now through this page!

A renowned storyteller and public speaker, Kambri Crews has performed on The Moth, Risk!, UCB Theatre, Gotham Comedy Club and given speeches at Illinois State University, Rutgers, University of Oregon, DeafHope, and many other schools, colleges, venues and events.  Learn more about her at www.kambricrews.com

JUN 6^th @ 4:00PM

Barnes & Noble – U of Chicago

970 E 58th St

Chicago, Illinois 60637

FREE! Kambri will tell a story, conduct a Q&A and sign copies of her memoir. Additional books will be available for purchase.

Don’t forget: 50 advance RSVPs are required! Click here to you’re your spot & free book:

http://www.togather.com/event/458/kambri-in-chicago.html

PRAISE FOR BURN DOWN THE GROUND:

"Poignant and unsettling." —Kirkus Reviews

"A compelling testament to the strength of the human spirit.”—Booklist

"Crews' account (the title refers to lighting brush on fire to clear out snakes) is as well-paced and stirring as a novel. In her fluid narrative (she's also a storyteller on the side, a gig that helped her develop this book), Crews neither wallows in self-pity nor plays for cheap black-comedic yuks. Instead, this book stands out for what matters most: Crews' story, bluntly told." —Elle magazine

“Harrowing…A remarkable odyssey of scorched earth, collateral damage, and survival." —Publishers Weekly

*Read a FREE excerpt *         *Read reviews & blurbs*      *View pictures of the tin shed*

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A Gift Horse

Dad has been in prison ten years, ten months and one day.

In that time, I've sent money, letters and postcards and have bought subscriptions, called on his behalf, researched a multitude of topics, and visited.

In ten years, ten months and one day, I'm the only one who done so without fail. 

Only one other person --my brother (or his wife)-- has come close to doing *maybe* a tenth of this. During especially busy times, I've gone as much as three months without writing. Rare, but I would still send money so he wasn't left entirely high and dry. 

As much as I think he never has to worry about losing me, of all people, he does. He frets and freaks and stresses if I don't write within [insert arbitrary timeframe based on his current emotional state]. He usually expresses this via an angst-ridden letter, fraught with worry and by the time I get that letter, he's heard from me. We're caught up and all is fine.

Only once had it ever gone beyond that. Read that entry here.  Basically, it was in part due to a mailing snafu and my being insanely busy pre-book publication day. That time, he threatened to kill himself. That is, until he received some college football books I bought him, and he suddenly found a reason to live. 

I felt bad for him. He'd said some inflammatory things about my mom, regretted it and hadn't heard back from me. His regret was like one of those toy sponge capsules you add water to and it swells into a dinosaur. It had grown well beyond its imagined initial capacity and he was living with a giant demon of his own creation. I was annoyed by his attempted manipulation, too, but mostly I felt sorry for him.

Fast forward to April 3, 2013. He's in despair, he says. He hasn't heard from me since March 1st. Since January 28th he's written me SEVEN letters, and in that time I've only written one postmarked March 31st. (His dates are confusing, but I think I sent a postcard / brief note on March 1st and a real letter on the 31st. I don't remember.)

Seven letters in two months is borderline stalking, (A); and (B) every letter he sends is filled with requests for information, research, and questions. It's not enough that I send him a postcard from the road. He needs MORE. ANSWERS TO HIS QUESTIONS. 

In my last letter I addressed this issue: You request so much information and that takes TIME. If you want more letters from me, stop asking for so much! It's like a homework assignment. HA! That's why I like sending postcards because I can let you know I'm thinking of you without having to deal with all your research demands. 

What followed? A letter filled with more requests. Send me information on a matador. Why is So & So in jail? Send me articles on their arrest and trial. How much is the Super Bowl trophy worth? AND OTHER RANDOM BULLARKY. Bullarky that I'd normally not blink twice at and would often be amused by or even curious to learn the answers to.

But this time?

This time, I do not feel bad for Dad. I feel PISSED. (Can't you tell by my all caps? No? Well, there's MORE TO COME!)

Never mind that from January to February I've traveled to San Francisco, Washington, D.C., Rutgers University (somewhere in NJ, I can't remember where) and a dozen other shows and charity events in and around NYC. Travel that would make the regular person kind of flip out and yet I navigated this with ease while navigating my real day-to-day life. Oh, right, I have a REAL FU*KING LIFE in the FREE WORLD where I live, because I didn't SAVAGELY STAB SOMEONE & SLICE THEIR THROAT TO NEAR DEATH.

Ever since receiving his last note in which he bitterly complains (photos herein), my first feeling when I think of him is anger. I think to myself, "That mother fu*ker needs a lesson in gratitude and humility! Here he has a free horse and he has the GALL to look at its teeth."

I am a GIFT horse. Do not DARE to look at my motherfu*king teeth. My teeth are fine. Better than fine.

So many of his fellow inmates have NO ONE. Nada. Zilch. Nothing. No letters, no money in a trust fund, no subscriptions to USA Today or Phil Steele's College Football preview to stop them from killing themselves. Dad has me and, yet, he's not satisfied.

Why? 

It's the same question I asked when trying to understand his capacity for violence. In this case --fear of my no longer wanting to write him-- he's got deep-seeded issues with abandonment, paranoia and low self-esteem that prison can't cure. (Let's be honest, prison ain't curing anything, not even his scabies.) Prison has only exacerbated his fears by isolating him into the most helpless, lonely, dark place.

"If Kambri has given up on me," he must think, "Who or what do I have left? Nothing." 

This spiraling descent of negative thought surely is made worse by his realization that he doesn't deserve such forgiveness or love. Unconditional or not. Knowing that he's capable of something so heinous. Most of us have not done anything that rises to the level of guilt he must be carrying.

Ten years, ten months and one day is not enough. 

It never will be.

Happy Birthday, Fool Man!

My husband Christian's birthday was yesterday, April Fool's Day, and Dad didn't disappoint with his usual hand-drawn card.

Dad and his fellow inmates sometimes catch an episode of Christian's sitcom "Are We There Yet?", and they've noticed how gray Christian has gotten as the series has progressed. In truth, hair & makeup had him dying his hair in the first season but it looked kind of fake and didn't really matter much.

Anyway, Dad isn't one to let a chance to tease slip by and seized Christian's special day as an opportunity to bust his chops.

Click here for last year's card and here for the card from 2011.

FRONT.



















INSIDE. Apparently it takes one hour and forty minutes to wash that gray right outta your hair. The "Gerber's Jar" baby food tee is inexplicable. My guess is that it means Christian is a big baby with birthing hips.




BACK.

I think Dad has been trying to work on himself ever since reading my book, talking about getting parole and a few other things. His last few letters and cards have had at least one reference or drawing that makes me think he's reading self-help books and such. If so, that's HUGE. I'll see him in April and will be sure to find out more. Meanwhile, here is his advice for all of us on the inside and in the Free World.

NYC Corruption

Dad's drawing of my friend Stacey before she left Texas to visit me in NYC:

A short plane ride from Houston to NYC:

And how I sent her home:

What's funny is that Stacey & I actually DID consider getting tattoos while she was here. So, maybe Dad has a point.

Not Your Typical Hallmark Card

Dad is pen pals with my childhood friend Stacey. She's coming to NY to visit me and Dad made this card to surprise her when she gets to my Rock House. She won't have time to actually visit the Rock House this time around but I'll give her the card anyway because she's a big fan of fart humor.

   

Day in the Life

What day-to-day life is:
 

How I envision it:


Think it! Become it! Visualize what you want and deserve and manifest it, people!

Casting Fluent ASL Signers in Los Angeles

Off topic but cool opportunity.

My pal Scott is a talented producer, writer, and director. He's casting a music video for the musician Eleanor Friedberger and is looking for fluent ASL signers in Los Angeles. 

For a sampling of Eleanor and a past video of hers, check out this YouTube link

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MRUOoSKt6Kg

They'll be shooting on Saturday, March 16th, in Los Angeles. The pay is $250 per signer. 

He's looking specifically for women and men in their 20s or early 30s who look kinda hip. Also, sexy. It'll be a fun, easy shoot. The signer will just sign the lyrics to the song alongside Eleanor.

Interested parties can email their photo and resume or website to Scott at smjacobson at gmail dot com.

Best of luck and break a leg!